


Exes

by justbygrace



Series: Stories I'll Never Write [4]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Alternate Universe, Angst, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-19 09:45:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13121163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justbygrace/pseuds/justbygrace
Summary: I barely even wrote a full first chapter here, but I know I'll never pick this up again.





	Exes

"You know, at some point you're going to have to actually leave the bus." Donna's voice rang through the enclosed interior and, unfortunately, easily swept through the pillow John McCrimmon had pressed over his face. "Also, attempting to suffocate yourself isn't going to make this any easier."

John reluctantly pulled the pillow away from his face and fixed Donna with a baleful stare. "I don't want to."

"You say that like I am going to leave you here and do the show myself simply because you don't want to," Donna said and even though he couldn't see her, he could well imagine the look on her face.

With an injured sigh, John pushed himself to his feet and immediately stepped across the narrow space to the mirror to check his hair. Donna was going to stand there until he left the bus with her and he couldn't do it with his hair drooping in his face. His obsession with his hair was just that, an obsession, and one that Donna usually put up with an impatient grace, but he was gathering by the increasing volume of her voice and the tapping of one foot that she was reaching her limit.

"John, are you even listening to me right now?" Donna's voice finally broke through and he spun around, patented smile in place.

"Yes, yes of course. Just making sure I am in tip-top shape!" He paused, grimaced. "Perhaps that's a no on tip-top."

"Uh-huh." She raised one eyebrow. "What's got you in a mood? Not that you aren't usually, mind, but you're worse tonight."

"Am I? I don't think I am. Not really, not more than usual, well, I say not more than usual, I mean, not much." He turned back to the mirror and inspected his hair once more.

"Oi, spaceman! Leave your tresses alone. You've got ten minutes to go time!" 

"Tresses?" He fixed her with a hurt stare. "I'll have you know that these are manly hairs, manly man hairs..."

"Enough! I do not get paid enough to deal with this." She sighed and crossed her arms. "I'm listening, start talking."

"Talking? I am talking. I always talk, I get paid to talk, you get paid because I talk, I love to talk, talking is the best. I could talk all day." He shifted his weight and studiously avoided her eyes.

"Eight minutes."

He slumped his shoulders in defeat and shoved his hands in his pockets. People could say what they liked about his stubbornness, but he was no match for Donna. 

"I just don't know if I can see her," he muttered to his shoes.

"Ahh, figured it was like that." She gave him a knowing look. 

"It isn't like that!" he protested.

"You mean, it isn't about the fact in six minutes you are going to have Rose Tyler, heir to Vitex Industries, most eligible bachelorette of the year, and, oh yeah, your ex girlfriend on this show?" Donna demanded.

"Okay, it's exactly like that." John dropped into the nearest chair, gaze trained on his Chucks, and prayed the floor would open up and devour him. 

"Listen up." Donna's voice was an odd mix of business and comfort and he had never been more thankful for her. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but you're a professional. This is what you do. And you're damned good at it. I don't care if it is the Pope himself or Agatha Christie back from the dead or Rose bloody Tyler, you get out there and do your stuff. And show that one just what she's missing. Now move." 

The Doctor pushed himself out of his chair with a sickly smile, chanced one last glance at the mirror, and attempted to slink past Donna. She was having none of it and pulled him in for a hug, patting him on the back. He protested because she was expecting him to protest, but he was grateful for the comfort.

As he led the way across the tarmac and into tonight's venue, he wondered what on earth had made him think that having Rose back on the show was going to end well. It had been at least fifty percent his idea, having her back, but right now he couldn't recall why.


End file.
